<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Green Ford Cortina by arctickid</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28608321">The Green Ford Cortina</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/arctickid/pseuds/arctickid'>arctickid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Humor, F/M, Friendship, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Roommates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:41:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28608321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/arctickid/pseuds/arctickid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Petter inherits an unwanted car from his late great uncle Cyneheard. Remus has enough problems already: Sirius smells way too good to be just a roommate.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Green Ford Cortina</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Beta: amazing @missmaykachan and Oona.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1.</p><p>Peter’s great uncle Cyneheard Pettigrew ended his days in a tragic teapot accident on May 13, 1978, when the summer was only beginning, and the heat was sprouting on the dusty London streets.</p><p>He left most of his fortune to his second wife and grandchildren, but his carefully cherished treasure, the green Ford Cortina Mark III, was bequeathed to Peter who by no means wanted it.</p><p> “I by no means want this,” Peter said on June 22nd when the car was finally delivered to the driveway of his mother’s house.</p><p>"Why not?" said James. "It's pretty fascinating."</p><p>“First of all, I don’t know how to use it,” Peter said. "Second, this is not the best time to look like a muggle sympathizer."</p><p>“A muggle sympathizer?” James laughed and breathed a substantial dose of sand dust into his lungs. "Do you realize what that sounds like?"</p><p>Peter drew a semicircle to the ground with his toe. "Whatever. I do not want it."</p><p>"Are you sure? It has such great tires. Very round,” said Sirius with a great deal of expertise.</p><p>“Can we just sell it to some muggle?”</p><p>“I guess,” James said. "Moony, I suppose you know something about these?”</p><p>"A little, I guess,” Remus said. “Not very much. I learned to drive mostly to keep my father happy. That probably doesn’t do any good for the tires,” he added as James kept stabbing the grooves with his wand.</p><p>“Anyway, Mom said it can’t be here. Neighbors may start talking.”</p><p>“Right. Can we take it to London?” said Sirius. “Moony and I can keep an eye on it until you find a buyer.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>So, on the twenty-fifth day, Cyneheard Pettigrew’s son drove the car to the parking lot in front of the gray apartment building where Remus and Sirius lived together as roommates.</p><p>Remus circled the car three times, examined the roof and the doors, ran his fingers through the hood. Then he looked inside. The seats were made of light leather, the steering wheel was thin and the gear stick stylized. The angles of the seats were adjustable, which was, as far as Remus knew, very modern. The smell was slightly stale, as if someone had used the car as an ashtray for years.</p><p>He found three maps, a few chocolate wrapping papers , and one adult entertainment magazine from the glove compartment.</p><p>“Wow,” said Sirius when he showed Remus the magazine. "Playboy? Do you know what this is?”</p><p>Remus shook his head. “You can have it if you want to.”</p><p>Sirius grabbed the magazine. Remus pretended to be reading the map of London but kept one eye on him.</p><p>“I didn’t know women do things like this,” Sirius said and showed him a page of a shirtless woman sitting on a tractor. The model seemed to be horribly delighted by the shovel in her hand. “A bit weird, isn’t it?”</p><p>Remus wondered how long men usually looked at such pictures. He counted slowly to seven in his head and then let out a laid-back laughter.</p><p>"That’s nice. I mean, those. Those are nice.”</p><p>"Those?" Sirius raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“Her b-, I mean, her boo… breasts. Her breasts. They are nice. Very beautiful,” Remus said, blushing from the neck to the temples. Wasn’t it something a man would say about such a picture? Wasn’t Sirius specifically looking at the woman's breasts? Whatever else he could have praised? The woman wasn’t wearing any clothes and the shovel looked pretty old and rusty.</p><p>“And - and the engine - the engine of the tractor, I mean,” he fumbled on as Sirius still didn’t say anything, “is clearly very… powerful.”</p><p>They were silent for a moment. Then Sirius turned the page. Remus sighed. This felt like the right time to go make tea.</p><p> </p><p>They had lived in the same flat for four months now. Living with Sirius felt weirdly natural. It was more quiet than in school, but it was the good kind of quiet – the comfortable kind.</p><p>The kitchen had stayed surprisingly clean despite Remus’ mother’s dark predictions. Sirius was happy to do the dishes, especially in a hangover, when he was in a bad mood anyway and, in his own words, feeling the presence of Walburga Black’s spirit. Dishwashing, Sirius had explained one Sunday morning while Remus was reading the paper, was above all a rite of purification.</p><p>Some time had passed since Sirius’ previous hangover. A growing pile of dishes took over the whole kitchen table. Remus could smell the old bean sauce from a week ago as he put the tea to boil.</p><p>Sirius, apparently already tired of the magazine and tractors with powerful-looking engines, came into the kitchen and jumped on the windowsill to sit.</p><p>“So. We have a car, then.”</p><p>“It’s not our car, Sirius. It’s Peter’s.”</p><p>"If it's Peter's car, it's our car, too."</p><p>Remus smiled and reached for the teacup from the top shelf. Only two cups left. Somebody needed to get Sirius drunk as soon as possible.</p><p>"Is it a great car? Or, uh," Sirius looked as if he was trying to speak a foreign language, "an expensive model?"</p><p>"I don't know," he muttered, still trying to reach the cup.</p><p>"The color is nice," Sirius said, looking over his own shoulder out of the window. "Mossy green."</p><p>“It’s not mossy green,” he said. The cups remained on the shelf. "I’d say it’s rather... forest green."</p><p>"Merlin, Moony, could you just use a wand? And it's certainly not forest green. Maybe... maybe grape green?"</p><p>“Grapes are light green,” Remus said and gave up.</p><p>Sirius grinned, jumped down from the windowsill and took a wand out his jean pocket. “Accio teacup!”</p><p>The cup jumped from the top self to his hand. Sirius walked over to him and gave him the mug. For a moment Sirius’ chest was only a few inches from his. He blinked and turned toward the sink.</p><p>He loved the way Sirius smelled. It was a weird mix of the boy’s natural aroma and maybe soap or a cologne and cigarettes, which should have smelled bad but on Sirius it didn’t. It smelled like Sirius.</p><p>He swept his hair away from his eyes and hoped Sirius didn’t notice him smelling him again. They were, after all, roommates. And very close friends.</p><p>"Thank you. For the cup, I mean.”</p><p>Sirius smirked. “Your welcome, Moony. For the cup.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>